The Beginning of It All
by Morgan Penciatti
Summary: There had to be some way Max got all the boys to join him- some stimulating and influential factor other than the allure of vampirism, right? That's where she fits in.
1. Liberation on the Homefront

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lost Boys, but I love 'em

In short, the Dodge City Police Station was not a nice place to be. But thankfully, Morgan Penciatti (finally arrested for her multiple offenses) now found herself blessed with an incredible escape from the hellish jail. As she was nearly eighteen years of age, there was some controversy over whether or not Morgan needed to be tried and sentenced as an adult or a juvenile and she had, since her arrest, been living in the police station. Her cell, a dingy, cob-webbed and dirty old box contained one decrepit, creaking bed, a small, reeking toilet and a cracked sink. The minuscule window that looked as though it had been shoved between the bricks of the wall, provided hardly any sunlight, fresh air, or any hope of escape. She had been locked up and had been served rank, meager meals for eight days and would remain there until eight that evening.

In order to avoid any further argument over Morgan's trial, the judge of her case had simply decided that she lacked proper schooling and a good home and had thus sentenced her to a life of fostered care by a recently widowed man named Max Walsh.

Supposedly, Max had undergone rigorous tests in order to be marked as an appropriate foster parent for Morgan. In the end, he won out, which meant that Morgan was guaranteed a comfy bed, three square meals a day, proper schooling, and all the love and care a foster parent could provide. She had to admit, she was pretty happy about getting out of the dumpy police station, but it hurt her to know that her surviving gang friends (who were all now of adult age) had been sentenced to many years in the State Penitentiary. One of her friends, Johnny Double, had shot and killed a policeman at the shootout and had been sentenced 25 years to life in the joint, when he had only been protecting his younger brother Franko, and himself from the murderous cops. She herself had never fired a gun at the shoot out (this was probably one of the factors that kept her from being properly sentenced), for her friend Donny had sacrificed himself to ensure her escape. However, Donny's attempt was in vain, more police had arrived by that time and she had no way out of the gas station which they had been attempting to rob. Donny was shot three times in the chest, and once in the leg, and he later died in the hospital.

Shock and guilt weighed so heavily on Morgan's mind that she found it difficult to think of anything but the shootout. She would awaken in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, just having relived the entire scene in her dreams. Her mind constantly replayed the whole thing in slow motion, forcing her to remember every minuscule detail that she wished she could forget, and sometimes when her memories were at their most vivid, she'd set down on the creaking bed, lean back against the wall and cry.

But tonight was different, she had earned a 'get out of jail free card' so to speak, and would be released in just a few hours. It would be a great relief to be removed from the dark, foul-smelling cell, and tonight Morgan felt herself all too anxious to be free once again. Of course there would be this Max character to deal with, but that would be easy as duck soup. She'd stay a few days, let Max think she'd settled in, then she'd up and split in the middle of the night and dust off to California, or just someplace where people wouldn't know her. She'd imagined some place nice and warm. Somewhere where the kids were hip and where it would be a cinch to make new friends and get along just fine. So naturally, she thought California, but if that seemed too far off, her second choice was Arizona, either one would do just fine.

The hours passed as she daydreamed of what winter was like in the desert, and soon enough, the sun had disappeared over the horizon, and it was twilight in Dodge City. A guard came a long and knocked his nightstick against the bars of her cell with a bit too much force.

"Hey." he said, but when Morgan did not answer, he got louder. "Hey! Penciatti! Wake up, you lazy swamp rat!"

Morgan let a smirk slide across her face and rolled her head to face the guard. "Drop dead, copper."

"You better play nice, girl, or we'll keep you here!" the guard unlocked the door and entered the cell.

"Oh! Would'ya please? Cuz it's oh so pleasant in here! A real hip pad. And I do _love_ hanging with the heat." she mocked him.

"Cut it out, kid!" He growled and readied a pair of handcuffs. "C'mon, you know the drill."

Morgan sighed loudly and put out her arms. "About to get freed and I still gotta wear the bracelets? Well, ain't this the royal shaft?"

The guard grunted, but looked pleased once he had clicked the locks into place. "Get up." he ordered when Morgan did not move after the cuffs were secure.

She did so slowly with a laboured sigh, and let the power-hungry guard lead her out of her cell and to an area in the front of the station with a few old chairs and a splintering desk at which an older policeman sat. Resting amidst the mess on the hard brown surface, was a folder with her name across the top, illuminated by the dim lamps and the dull glow of the twilight sky outside the dirty windows. The guard forced Morgan down roughly into one of the chairs before the desk and the older man looked up to meet her sullen face.

"Well, well, well, finally getting out, are we?" he chortled through his thick grey mustache. "Mr. Walsh should be here soon to retrieve you- though I can't see why he'd adopt a good for nothing drape like you. You're nothing but trash, that's all you're worth-garba-" he stopped and snapped his mouth shut like a goldfish.


	2. Cigarette Casings on a Snaking Porch

"Officer Hitchman, I would hope that you're not using that sort of language to address my new ward." came a kind-sounding man's voice from behind Morgan.

The old officer looked shocked and embarrassed and turned a magnificent shade of fire-engine red when he tried to defend himself.

"Why, of course not Mr. Walsh! I was merely addressing- well! Nevermind! Let's get down to business, shall we? Please." he said, putting a hand out to indicate the chair next to Morgans own.

"Well, I agree, we should indeed get to business," he approached the desk. "But first, I would like to properly introduce myself to Morgan."

It was now that Morgan looked upon her new foster father for the first time and she was not impressed with what met her eyes. Mr. Walsh was about six-foot three, at least a mile taller than Morgan and he stared down at her through ridiculous glasses with thick rims. His face was plain, but kind, with strange eyes that for some reason seemed to burn into Morgan. She stared back, her own glare probably wasn't as penetrating, but it was darn threatening to most people- especially when she let her trademark, sinister grin glide across her face. This action appeared to amuse Mr. Walsh and he looked quite pleased and satisfied before he introduced himself. "I'm Max Walsh. Nice to meet you, Morgan." He put out his hand in greeting. Morgan returned the gesture gingerly, her arms weighed down slightly from the cuffs. Mr. Walsh turned back to the officers. "Why is she still in hand-cuffs?!" he demanded calmly with a fabulous edge that caught Morgan's attention.

Morgan was amazed that Mr. Walsh was sticking up for her, and she watched slyly as he lectured the officers about basic human rights and the state and federal laws. She had to admit, she was liking this Mr. Walsh more and more every second.

"I don't care if she's still in the station and the papers aren't signed yet- after all, that's what I'm here for- signing the papers and taking her away from you callous policemen."

It seemed odd that Mr. Walsh had said all of this without showing any hint of anger, yet the policemen were just as petrified as if someone were holding guns to their faces.

"Y-y-yes, Mr. Walsh! I mean- Well! Cunnigham! What were you thinking?! Get this young lady out of her restraints, will you!" Officer Hitchman attempted to sound formal and commanding through his fear. Cunningham let out a small squeak, but said nothing as he fumbled with his keys.

With a soft chink, the key turned the gears and other mechanisms inside the cuffs and they fell from Morgan's hands. She stretched her fingers and rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had been.

"I'm sure that's much better." Max sat down in the wooden chair next to Morgan and began to fill out the paperwork that the head officer had just given him.

Max filled out the papers almost silently, give or take a few "hmm's" and "hrm's" here and there when he seemed to be bringing forth something from the back of his mind. Before Morgan could take note, all of the proper forms were filled and Max was leading her out of the station, down the few steps and towards a fabulously blue rag-top which played host to a particularly large white German Sheppard. Morgan had never much felt anything towards dogs having never owned one herself, but she was surprised to see that as they approached, the beast seemed to smile and inclined it's head for Max to stroke.

"This is Ace." Max laughed as he climbed into the driver's side and the gargantuan dog licked the length of the side of his face.

Morgan joined Max and the beast in the car and eyed the latter carefully for any movement towards her. The dog made no effort to come closer to Morgan, but instead, surveyed her with intelligent, rather piercing black eyes and gave a little groan as if in greeting.

Max turned the key and they were off down the road in no time flat.

"Radio?" Max asked after a while.

"I guess." Morgan answered with a shrug.

"Well what do you like?" Max laughed. "I suppose that's a silly question. Rock and roll? Elvis?"

Morgan smiled a little at Max's blunder. "Yah. Elvis? He ain't no square." she watched as Max reached for the radio and switched it on.

"But he's not your favourite."

"Nah. Not really, I guess." she was silent for a moment. "There was this place we all knew- we all hung out there. Raccoon Ridge. That's where all the good music was. Someone'd just pick up a guitar and go- that's all there was to it. Natural-like and from deep down, I guess, not all that flashy, spangly stuff." Morgan rested her elbow on the window sill, put her chin in her hand and stared out the window at the passing houses and fields. Max noticed the underlining melancholy in Morgan's tone and found a decent station, then turned the the radio up a few notches in a feeble attempt to cheer her up.

The long drive was nearly over as Max pulled off the old highway and onto a fairly long, winding driveway that split the forest down the middle.

Max's house was far from ordinary. It was white and consisted of two, large stories and nearly half of the walls were covered with windows that peered out in every direction. Morgan stared at the house, it was bigger than anything she had ever seen and it looked more than welcoming after spending eight days in jail. There was a long porch that snaked it's way around the many angles of the ground floor and boasted a clean white rail supported by white pickets which reminded Morgan of the bright casings of cigarettes. What she wouldn't have given for a cigarette at that moment. She hadn't enjoyed a good smoke since she ran out of fags on her sixth morning in jail, and had been thirsting for the intoxicating smoke that filled her when she inhaled ever since.

Max parked the car at the side of the house in a small car port and let Ace out behind him before retrieving Morgan's bags. Morgan stepped out of the car and gazed up at the house and it's inviting lighted windows once again.

"Welcome to your new home Morgan!" Max called as he walked to the front door. Morgan followed and quickly met Max at his side as he climbed the front steps and entered the house and put down Morgan's things.

The inside of the house was just as welcoming and beautiful as the outside. It was filled with paintings and artifacts from all over the world, and among the old relics, Morgan noticed some new, more modern things; a stack of Elvis and Chuck Berry albums rested on a coffee table in the room to the right, one of the walls in the entrance hall boasted a movie poster from Marlon Brando's _Wild One_, and the room to the left, (which when Max had entered and switched on a light, Morgan recognized as the kitchen) sported sparkling appliances and modern-styled cabinets.

"Would you like anything to eat?" Max asked from the kitchen as he spread his arms as if presenting the room to someone on a game show.

Morgan bent down and shouldered one of her bags. "No thanks..." Morgan shrugged her bag further up her shoulder. "I think I'll uh, just turn in for the night, you know?"

"Oh, yes of course!" Max returned to the front room. "I suppose a prison bed isn't the most comfortable thing in the world." He laughed and picked up Morgan's other small bag and started up the stairs. "The bedrooms are upstairs- you're down the hall and to the left, I'm just down the hall to the right." He explained as they reached the top.

"Thanks, Walsh." Morgan took her bag. "I think I can take it from here." she allowed for a sad smile, then made for her new room


	3. Rawhide Ruins Everything Even Your Face

Morgan figured it was about eleven when she woke up, and she decided that she was thirsty, so she crept down the down the stairs and passed the living room where Max was watching an old black and white movie. Once in the kitchen, a mad dash was made for the refrigerator and strong, small hands unlatched it quietly to find only a sad absence of alcohol. The cabinets! Now there was an idea, Max probably had some liquor around there someplace, and Morgan was dead set on discovering it until a fatal squeak of a hinge and a decently noisy slam of a cabinet door ruined her furtive efforts.

"Morgan?" Max called from the next room.

Morgan walked towards the living room with her hands in her pockets and her chin a mile up. "So, you caught me looking for booze. Now what?"

"Well, if you had asked me, I would have let you have some." Max laughed.

Morgan was caught quite of guard here. "You're kiddin' me, right?"

"No." Max had stood up to turn the volume dial down on the TV. He'd been watching one of those old movies- the kind with the the house on the hill and the pasty monsters who seduce beautiful women and subsequently drink their blood to the sound of a pipe organ. Now however, the white monsters and towering shadows moved to the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth. "C'mon." he gestured for Morgan to take a seat. "After all, we ought to celebrate your freedom and our new family. Now let's see... all of what I have is probably stronger than what you're used to." He chuckled as he searched though his liquor cabinet.

"Stronger the better." Morgan sighed and fell into one of the twin, wing-backed chairs by the fire and the TV.

"That's the right attitude! Always good to try new things- Ah! Here it is." he found what he had been searching for and, with a few chinks of glass, he removed a large dusty bottle. It was unlike any bottle Morgan had ever seen. It was decorated with a fine silvery casing that had been stuck with what looked like rubies. It looked absolutely ancient. "Ah yes, I haven't had this in ages! Perfect for a celebration!"

"Uh, Walsh?" Morgan swallowed and stared at the liquid that sloshed slightly inside the dust-coated green glass. "That bottle looks a bit rank- if you know what I mean. That is- uh- 'harmful if swallowed', you know?" She tried to sound confident but she wasn't sure how she actually sounded.

Max laughed and merely went on getting glasses and a wine corker. "Nonsense! This wine is my favourite- and trust me, I _know_ my drinks." he uncorked the prehistoric bottle and began pouring a glass. "Besides, _this _wine gets better and stronger with age." he handed Morgan the small glass of the thick, dark liquid.

Morgan swallowed and brought the glass to her face to sniff it, but not before Max stopped her.

"Ah-ah-ah. It's polite to wait, you know. Besides, we have to make a toast!" he said then proceeded to pour himself a glass. He seated himself in the one of the twin wing-backs which he had been seated in earlier, and raised his glass.

Morgan raised her own glass in response, her eyes met Max's and for a split second she thought she saw something almost _alien_ in his but she shook it off as fear and excitement the thought of the strange wine in the glass in her hand instilled in her.

"To freedom and family." Max said and their glasses clinked.

Morgan tipped the glass back nervously, but when the dark liquid passed her lips, it hit her tongue with an incredible wealth of flavour. Morgan was shocked at first and paused, the glass still tipped and at her lips. But almost instantly after she had paused, she _needed_ more. She couldn't describe the feeling. If it had to be put into words, one might describe it as liquid fire that infiltrated every taste bud, every pore as it flowed like the river Styx from mouth to stomach. Ecstasy in pain, pain in ecstasy. It was like a drug, and Morgan _needed_ more.

She wasn't aware of much else now, not that Max continued pouring the strange wine, not that the fire was beginning to die, nor that the pasty white monster in the house on the hill was now moving towards his victim to the now silenced pipe organ.

It was the invisible fist that seemed to twist her insides into excruciatingly painful positions that woke Morgan from her stupor. She had just downed only God knew how many glasses of the weird wine, and now feared it might now come back in the opposite way.

The hand twisted again, and this time it dug in it's claws.

Morgan dropped her glass and it smashed on the floor while she doubled over in her chair and released several cries of pain. She once again became aware of Max's presence as he knelt beside her and pushed a strand of her wild hair behind her ear. Suddenly there was a strong breeze as if a window had been thrust open, and Morgan cried as though it were ripping at her skin. In a moment of delirium, she wondered whether the wind was God attempting to blow her disgusting presence from his precious world and almost instantly, she felt a will to fight it.

She stood blindly on weak feet and immediately found the room calm as if no wild force of nature had ever thought of disturbing the strange atmosphere. She heard the crackle of the nearly dead fire but nothing else, that is before her stomach seemed to roar as loudly as a lion. Morgan knew that she hadn't eaten much since the insufficient breakfast at the jail, but this rumble was no ordinary sign of hunger she had ever experienced before. There was sure to be food in the kitchen, but no food item seemed very attractive in her mind. This confused Morgan even more and she ran clumsily for the front door and the outside to find something- anything to satisfy. In her mad dash, she heard no protest from Max or his dog Ace, whom she had assumed would bark in all of the excitement.

The cool night air licked Morgan's fevered skin as she stumbled through the front door and absentmindedly slammed it behind her. Her vision was still blurred and she still felt slightly weak as she continued toward the steps off of the porch. Unfortunately, a rawhide dog bone proved itself to be the menace to her foggy plans as she tripped over it and found herself heading for the steps in the wrong way, and much faster than expected.

She was aware that she had taken several hits to the head, one bash on the nose, and that her wrist was splitting with pain when she landed. It also came to her attention that her legs were sprawled on the last few steps while the left side of her face was planted firmly in the gravel at a very awkward angle so that something warm and delicious trickled into her mouth. Something red clouded her vision and she heard some swift footsteps and someone calling her name in a bit of a panic, then everything stopped and she went under.


	4. Swing Low Sweet Chariot

"I told you it was strong stuff." Max said as he sat in the gravel next to Morgan's unconscious body. "The pure and undiluted blood of the Head Vampire is almost always completely debilitating in it's lust for human blood." He smiled and pushed some hair from Morgan's torn face, absentmindedly slipping a few fingers over a trail of blood that trickled from just above her ear. Slightly stunned by the familiar red, Max slowly lifted his hand to his mouth to lick the blood from it but hesitated. "No!" He breathed as he came back to himself. "Have to clean her up first. Poor thing." With that, he assessed the damage done to Morgan's body. She looked quite the mess; Knees and arms scraped where they had made contact with the ground, Wrist broken in an attempt to break the fall, side of her head bleeding rivers down her face from a collision with the railing, and cuts on her shoulder as well as the opposite side of her face, compliments of the sharp gravel.  
What Max did next would have seemed odd to any human who might have been there to see, but the only pair of eyes watching were Ace's, as he chewed the massive rawhide bone that had caused Morgan's fall. Max bit harshly into his own wrist so that it began to pour fourth blood onto the side of Morgan's head that had split open on the railing. The instant Max's blood hit Morgan's broken skin, the latter began to, in a way, sew itself back together. With another smile, Max proceeded to heal Morgan's open wounds, and when he had healed all but her wrist, he ran into the house and was back at Morgan's side in a flash, first aid kit in hand.  
"Let's see now,... haven't used this sort of stuff in a very long time." he said to himself as he searched through the various bandages and liquids. "Ah, here we are." He unscrewed the cap to the rubbing alcohol, applied it on some gauze, and carefully cleaned Morgan's blood-stained face before seeing to her wrist. Remembering some long-ago first-aid, Max set the bone and wrapped it.  
Suddenly, there was a cacophonous crunch.  
"I think we're going to stick with fluffy, squishy chew-toys from now on, Ace." Max looked up at his dog who had momentarily retired his efforts of 'killing' the bone, and immediately widened his eyes and let his ears sink. "Don't you try that look on me, Ace. It may work on that collie down the road, but you sir are in big trouble-"  
Max's scolding was interrupted by a small, weak whine from below. Max looked back down at Morgan, who had begun to stir, then back to Ace. "You got off easy this time, bud."  
The great beast of a dog merely shrugged, seeming to understand his master's every word, and went back to crunching away on the rawhide while Max carried the still unconscious Morgan off to the car.

*****

A cool breeze tickled the bare skin of Morgan's face and neck, waking her from her dead slumber. Her eyelids were heavy and she felt peculiar and weak as she tried to open her eyes and pick herself up. When she succeeded in lifting her lids, she could see nothing but the dull glow of a nearby street-lamp and parts of the street in front of her. Her thoughts were muddled, her brain was a mess; What had just happened? Where the Hell was she? Was this a dream? What was going on? Where was Max, the big house, the white porch--

"The porch?" she said. "The steps- what did I trip on?" she paused for a moment and closed her eyes again. "In real life, and in my head... Did I even fall?"  
She attempted to push herself up from the cold sidewalk, but screamed in pain and collapsed when her left hand pushed against the cement. She cradled it in her good arm and examined it. Someone had apparently set the bone and wrapped it, though around the edges of the bandage the purple skin shone hideously in the lamplight. "I guess I did fall. Ow, shit." she grimaced and sat up  
slower, and without the use of her left hand, this time.  
Suddenly, Morgan felt nauseated and curled in a ball around her stomach, ready to be sick. Her stomach wretched and threatened more than once, but the vomit never came up.  
_"There's nothing down there."_ she thought as she held her middle with her good hand. _"I haven't eaten since that crummy breakfast, maybe I'm just hungry."_  
"Really hungry." she added aloud.  
Another stomach flip.  
A chilled sweat broke out on Morgan as she shut her eyes tight and writhed in pain for a moment that seemed to last for ages. When the pain and nausea finally lifted, Morgan no longer felt anything but a primal thirst for something she couldn't even fathom, though her body seemed able to. Everything was quiet but her heavy breathing as she listened.

*****

"I got a woman, a head like a rock. If she ever went away I'd cry around the clock. Oh-ho yeah, ever since the world began- Ohoh-ho-ho a hard headed woman's been a thorn in the side of maaaan.... OH YEAH!!" The boys and I all laughed as we screamed out the last lyrics before the song hit its end. We were out on the town for the night; Billy had borrowed his Pop's car and the three of us guys piled in with the promise of a night of fun and mayhem. Billy had come up with a plan that would get us into a strip club, but the creep at the door figured that the three of us were under age, and we left miserably. We'd had the same luck at three bars, but had fortunately scored a few bottles of whiskey from a more laid-back liquor store, though we were still miserable. Finally, we decided to go bowling, but we got there and discovered that it was the Women's Club's night and were outta' there before those middle-aged feminists could pinch our cheeks and ask us to join them for tea and cookies and a few rounds.  
Broken-hearted once again, we resorted to driving around until and idea hit one of us. Soon enough Eddie remembered hearing about a slumber party some of the gals from school were having at Marsha Greene's house, and just like that, we we on our way, hoping to catch something interesting in a window. We had the music up to the max and were speeding towards Marsha's neighbourhood, when we turned a corner and caught a glimpse of something strange under a street-lamp.  
Billy stopped and backed up, and good God, it was a girl! She was pale as bone with wild black hair and an amazing amount of bare skin shining under the lamplight. I thought she looked sad and sick and hurt, but Billy and Eddie seemed to be switched on like lamps.

"You alright there sweetheart?" Billy leaned out his window and smiled.

The girl looked up. Jesus! It was the bird from the papers- Morgan Penciatti. She looked terrible. Her face was ridden with tear streaks and her eyes were bloodshot. She barely resembled the ruthless and steel-faced boss dolly that we all knew of and respected due to the way she fought the harsh coppers, and the way she might slice you if you met her in a dark alley-way.

I rolled down my window. "Could we help you?"  
Eddie leaned over Billy to shout out the window. "Yeah, sweet pea, we can help you."  
"Eddie! Cool it, will ya?" I said, I knew there wasn't a guy in all of Dodge (including myself) who didn't secretly want to have a petting party with Morgan Penciatti. Though at the moment, she needed help and, thanks to my Christian values, I couldn't help but hurt a little for her. I turned back to see her looking at me. God! What piercing eyes!  
She sniffed and pushed away a strand of her hair. "You three go to the City High, don't you? Varsity lettermen, right?" She saw my jacket and nodded, answering her own questions. "Usually, I wouldn't accept help, especially not from squares like you..." she stopped and looked uneasy. "...But, I think I might need a doctor. I broke my arm and I'm not feelin' quite ...right." she added the last part quietly.

"Sure, doll. We'll take you straight to the 'emerge' room." Billy said. I could hear the smirk in his voice, that bastard.  
I started to get out of the car to help Morgan in, but she was already on her feet and climbing into the back seat next to me. Billy and Eddie both stared forward now as we sped down the road, no longer destined for the slumber-party-stake-out, and I looked at Morgan, who gazed painfully at the floor of the car. As I turned to look forwards, I caught her grimacing with her good hand clutched over her stomach. I felt helpless as I watched her and waited to arrive at the hospital.

I should have known that bastard would have taken that turn, but I was too busy worrying about the small, shivering figure of Morgan Penciatti next to me on the seat. Billy'd taken an old road that led away from the hospital, and toward the edge of town near the woods. He had stopped on the side of a farmers field that sidled up next to the trees when he cut the engine. Morgan finally looked up. The anger seemed to radiate from her as she realized where we were and she let out a single threatening sentence that would have, under different circumstances, scared the socks off of us boys.  
"This is not where I wanted to go." she hissed before opening the door and climbing out of the car.  
She didn't get far before Billy and Eddie were after her, and I was following them cursing them out for what they were surely about to do. She heard their feet crunching the tall grass, and my voice breaking the near silence, and she broke into a desperate run. The boys were closing in on the ill drape. Eddie got close enough and grabbed her broken wrist so that she hollered in pain and lost her footing. Billy tore off her jacket, revealing the small red bikini-style top beneath it, then he forced her to the ground and held her down while Eddie went for her jeans. Her screams were horrifying as the two boys tore at her clothing like two hungry animals tore at a kill's hide. Billy soon threw a hand over her screaming mouth and all was quiet but the drunken chuckling of the hyenas who were Morgan's captors. I made to try and pull at least one of them off of her, but to my surprise, Billy hollered in agony just before I went to tackle him, and held his bleeding hand to his chest. Despite the moment for a possible escape, Morgan lay completely still and pale in the moonlight, while a shocked Eddie looked in awe at Billy, then turned to Morgan and a look of utter horror crossed his face. "What the Hell?!" he mad a feeble attempt of backing up, but Morgan snatched his wrist with a sudden, frightening power.  
There was a crack and a shrill scream from Eddie as he stared at his deformed wrist. "Eye for an eye, Sweet-pea." she sneered as she sat up and caught both of her attackers by their ankles before they could escape her. It was then I saw what Eddie had freaked at; Morgan's face had transformed into that of a movie-monster's. Her eyes gleamed a bright, reddish-yellow, the bridge of her nose had crinkled into her furrowed brow, and her mouth was stretched in a wide sneer that leaked into her now yellow eyes, and revealed bloody fangs.  
My feet froze in terror and I lost the feeling in my legs as I watched the creature massacre my teammates in seconds. After she had finished with Billy, she dropped his lifeless corpse on top of that of Eddie's and staggered toward a tree on which she leaned for support as she clutched at her stomach again. It was as if she had forgotten my existence, yet I still couldn't move as I watched her howl and scream with pain and writhe against the tree trunk.  
Finally she fell quiet and sank to the ground. I heard a low sobbing sound from her as she put her bloody hands to her face, and I felt strangely compelled to comfort her, in fact, my feet seemed to move on their own as they carried me towards her. Once at her side, I knelt and pulled her hair back from her face.  
"I-it's alr-right...shhh." I said and she suddenly threw her arms around me and buried her face into the collar of my jacket.

"Why would they do that to me?" she sobbed.  
Again, I felt oddly compelled to aid her, and I told the truth. "They were drunk... a-and your body... -well, it's just, you know very... nice." My hands subconsciously slid down her bare back to the clasp of her top. _"Just one quick 'snap' and you've got her...just undo it..."_ I thought impulsively, and regretfully acted on that impulse. I had her top unsnapped in a second, and my face was moving for hers, though it was all over the second I tasted the blood on her lips. My eyes snapped open, and I tried to pull away from her.

"Stupid." She sneered and tightened her grip. "Even you tried to get to me." she whispered in my ear. "You Hound-dog, you."


	5. Three Dead Boys and a Willow Cowboy

Morgan exhaled and shoved the body of the boy off of her after draining him dry. "Sorry babe, but the other two tasted better; vodka flavoured." she chuckled and leaned back against the tree trunk and watched the stars. "Huh, I don't think I ever realized that there were so many!" she laughed drunkenly.

The blood she had taken from the three boys had left her in a strange state of pure elation which she realized that she had never before experienced, not on anything. This felt fantastic! Her whole body felt completely relaxed and her mind was clear as day, and though she knew that what she had just done should have frightened her, it didn't in the slightest. She sat wondering at the world around her for a moment before the scent of rotting flesh brought back to herself and she marveled that she could smell it already. She had always thought that bodies started stinking hours after death.

"Ah well, guess that's the movies for yah." she pinched her nose, picked herself up, and found quite to her surprise, that her wrist no longer throbbed in pain. Upon removing the wrap and examining her wrist more carefully, she discovered that it was no longer purple with bruised flesh. In fact, her whole arm seemed quite white, and as she continued to examine herself, she found the rest of her bare skin to be the same pale shade. It was as if the sun's scorching rays had never once come into contact with her skin. Curious of this discovery, she lowered her hand from her nose to touch this odd phenomenon, but immediately returned it to her face as the sour scent of decay once again burned her nose. "Ugh! Gross!! I've gotta get rid of these things before they make me spill my guts out."

Obviously, holding one's breath for a moment or more should have been strenuous for anyone, especially a smoker like Morgan who found now found the task only slightly uncomfortable as she tossed the bodies of the dead boys into the trunk of the car with surprising ease. "Damn!" she exclaimed as she saw her handiwork on on of the jocks' necks as his head lolled in an awkward way to one side, showing the excessive amount of carnage Morgan had inflicted upon his throat. "I did that?!" she paused. "I'm good!" she thought as she slammed the trunk shut and went for the driver's seat.

*****

Morgan knew of a deep spot in a well hidden bend in the river just a few more miles North of the field, and she resolved to dump the bodies there as hardly anyone ever ventured to it. It was said to be haunted by the ghost of a gunfighter who had lost a duel by the banks, fell into the river and, unable to swim, drowned. Since then, there was a farmer who had run a cattle farm on the surrounding property and one day a calf got itself stuck in the mud by the river. The farmer went to pull it out, supposedly but disappeared after climbing down to it. When the calf eventually escaped, it had gone mad, and later ran in front of a train. That had been at least sixty years ago, and the cowboy gunfighter, years before that.

Morgan herself, had been there twice; once when she was eleven, as part of an initiation to the gang she had belonged to, and second, this previous year, when her gang-mate Trix had dared her to come with him and Rattler at midnight to see the ghosts. She had agreed, only because her fearlessness of ghosts had been questioned after Cash had told a ghost story one night, and everyone had heard Morgan later scream in her sleep. So the next night, Rattler drove them out to the bend, and claiming to be too scared, stayed with the car. By the end of the night, Morgan hadn't seen much but Trix's face after she had smacked him for trying to make out with her, let alone any ghosts and later, when the three returned, there was no longer any question of Morgan's fear as she came back unharmed, whereas Trix, who had run up the bank of the river just a short time after Morgan had stormed up it, came back shaken and twitching.

"Idiot." Morgan laughed, and reminisced as she drove, how Trix had tried to keep a hold on her when they were down by the water. "Men should just try keepin' their hands to themselves."

It wasn't long before Morgan had reached the path down through the willow trees to the the old cove, and she backed the car in and cut the engine. The moon still shone brightly, but it was further to the west now, and it must have been only a few hours until dawn. Holding her breath again, she popped the trunk and pulled the first boy out and threw the empty husk of his body over her shoulder with ease before trekking down to the rushing waters below.

"One down, two to go..." she said as she watched the body slip along silently with the current.

She continued in the same fashion with the two other bodies, but just as she was about to dump the third, a sudden, impossible gust of wind blew downstream and made the willows dance and drop their dead leaves to spin all around Morgan in the swift wind. Only a little frazzled, Morgan continued her disposal duty and swung the body into the river, but for one long, unnatural moment, the body seemed to slow in the air as Morgan saw the small willow leaves gather in what looked like the shape of a cowboy who seemed to stare directly at her when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you again, dawrlin" his southern drawl was gruff but enticing. "Way to shoot first,..." he said as he watched the body fall closer to the water. "...By the way, careful of the water bloodsucker."

"What?!" Morgan's eyes searched the opposite bank for someone playing a trick, but there was no one as the willow cowboy exploded back into thousands of single leaves. Before she could make any conclusions to what she had seen and heard, time seemed to catch up with itself and she heard the smack of the body hitting the water, and the rain of rushing drops splashing up out of the river, into the wind and onto the bare skin of her exposed knees and and middle.

The water scalded her perfect, pale skin on contact as if it were boiling! In her confusion and agony Morgan howled with with anguish and as she attempted to back up the bank, she slipped in the mud and slid towards water. She grabbed a low-hanging branch just in time to save herself from becoming completely immersed in the river, but she soon felt the water from the mud tearing the skin of her bare back apart and seeping though her jeans to eat away at the flesh of her bottom an the backs of her legs. In a desperate attempt to save herself from the strange burning, Morgan pulled herself back up the bank by means of roots and low branches, regardless of the pain it caused her as the dirt, sticks, and rocks clung to and grabbed at the destroyed skin of her back. However, the pain fianlly began to draw on her strength, soon she could stand it no more and blacked out, still clinging to a low branch.

*****

All the while, back in his living room, Max lay reading on the sofa by the fire. He'd been worrying incessantly since he had left Morgan by the road to find her first victim on her own, but had resolved not to go after her, reasoning that it was best to allow her to discover her new instincts on her own. It had been early enough in the evening when he had left her, and only a short while after, he had felt her elation when she had fed. He had been sure then that she must have been marveling at the world through her new eyes, then disposing of the bodies, but now, as the minutes rolled by, he grew more and more anxious. To calm himself, he assured his worrying mind that Morgan was likely just out having fun discovering her new abilities, and he picked up a book and began to read to keep himself from panicking. However, Max soon discovered that his efforts were in vain as he could not concentrate on anything but Morgan and her whereabouts. He looked to his dog, Ace, who perked up as his master began to speak.

"What if she doesn't know when to come home or goes near running-" Max stopped abruptly as his whole body became alert with a sudden and acute pain. He winced, knowing the pain would be short-lived and would soon abate. "Oh no..." he breathed as he realized what was happening. "The river. I'll bet that's how she got rid of the bodies!_ Oh NO! _" Max shot up and Ace barked loudly. "Stay here Ace." the dog obeyed as his master disappeared.

Max followed Morgan's trail and soon came to where she had parked the car she had taken. As he passed the car, he smelled the sour scent of decay that the bodies had undoubtedly left behind in the open trunk, and he grimaced at it as he continued towards the path under the willows. "Morgan?!" he called. No answer. "MORGAN!" Still, there was no answer but a small breeze that carried fluttering leaves over the banks.

Max looked down and scanned the ground feverishly but was disturbed when the wind changed and a mass of leaves blew past him, landing a few yards to the east of Max, in an inlet formed in the bank by the roots of a great willow. It was here that Max saw what he had feared.

A single hand, burnt at the tips of the fingers where it had dug into the wet mud to find something to hold onto. Max's eyes followed the length of the scalded arm to the mass of black hair and the small back which displayed the worst of the visible burns. He carefully raced down to Morgan and cautiously recovered her small frame from the mud. Most of her skin was horribly burned and looked like a strange, tangled web of skin-coloured tread over a blazing red canvas. "Oh dear, today's just not your day is it? Poor thing." Max said softly as he scooped his daughter into his arms. Standing up, Max could see where Morgan had fallen, where the river water still flowed over the muddy bank, and where Morgan's leather boots had likely protected her until they became water-logged. He assumed that something must have distracted Morgan, or else she likely would not have fallen at least until the water seeped through her boots completely. Max looked back at Morgan's unconscious and disfigured body and sighed. "Let's get you home, kiddo."


	6. The Morning After

**Chapter 6: The Morning After.**

Morgan's eyes snapped open- or at least she thought they had. At first everything was dark, and in a panic, she tried to sit up. In her haste she hit her head against something that felt as though it was once soft, but had been worn to a point where the solid board behind it now created a very large stinging area on Morgan's forehead.

"Shit! Ow!" she howled and attempted to put her hands to her head in hopes of soothing the pain, though when she lifted them, they too hit the same offending material as before.

She closed her eyes, grit her teeth and moaned with the pain until it finally subsided. When she reopened her eyes, the darkness only hung around her for a moment until her eyes began to adjust and, in seconds, she saw clearer than she had ever seen in the darkness before. It was as if a light had been switched on somewhere, though as soon as Morgan began to take in what surrounded her, she instantly forgot about the idea of a light.

Moth-eaten blue silk encased her on all sides and she lay on a bed of the same decrepit material. She didn't notice that the box was clearly to large for her (though she had inches of wiggle-room around her shoulders and about a foot-and-a-half of space below her feet) as she realized what it was.

"A c-coffin? It's a dead-case!" her cries started out in quiet shock and grew as she considered her situation. "Shit! SHIT! I'm dead! Oh fuck! I'm dead!" she cried as she pressed her hands along the side of the coffin as though checking for solid evidence of her death. "Fuck- what happened to me? What the Hell was that stuff he gave me? That son of a bitch poisoned me!" she was writhing now, kicking her legs against all walls of the coffin, and had managed to wiggle her arms around and press her hands on the lid. "Shit! Please..no! No! NO!" Suddenly, she felt something like a handle and turned it in desperation.

The lid flew open. Morgan sat up and climbed out without a glance at her surroundings and, when she stepped out of the coffin, she was surprised when she didn't find the ground until seconds later when she'd hit it with her hands and knees. She gasped for air as she flipped around and stared, wide-eyed at the old coffin upon the stone shelf that protruded from the wall.

"Shit..." she breathed as she picked herself up slowly. She reluctantly pulled her eyes from the coffin, still shocked and frightened by its presence, and glanced around the room in which she now stood. It was all still very bright, even though there were no lights but a few small candles which had melted into pools upon the stone floor. The walls were a dull grey but were died darker at the tops where water leaked down from somewhere. There was no furniture or decoration but the coffin on the low shelf and the candles on the floor next to it.

"_This _is Hell?" she asked incredulously. She would have laughed but she was still too shocked and scared to be sarcastic.

"No. Of corse not, silly." Someone chuckled deeply from behind Morgan.

Morgan went rigid with anger-she knew that voice. She whipped around to see Max Walsh standing at the bottom of a flight of old stone stairs and smiling at her kindly.

"You Son of a bitch! What did you do to me?" she readied her hand to dive for the switch in her back pocket.

"Morgan," Max stepped down from the stairs and took a step towards Morgan.

"Stay... away." Morgan growled and pulled out her switch-blade. Max stopped, his smile gone. "Now answer me before I slice your throat out. Don't think I won't do it- I've done it before and won't think twice about it!" she hissed.

To Morgan's surprise and chagrin, Max laughed.

With a snarl, Morgan lunged for Max's throat, but he caught her mid-dash by the wrists with incredible strength. Morgan merely groaned in irritation, forgetting to be surprised by Max's power, and fought it with all her of her own.

"_Morgan."_ Max finally laughed in a deep, strange voice after the struggle between the two had gone on for a minute or so.

At the sound of her name, Morgan snapped out of her rage and immediately paid Max close attention.

"_Drop the knife."_

To her surprise, Morgan did as she was told and, still looking straight at Max, she let the knife clatter to the floor.

"_I'm going to let go of you now, please behave."_ Max said softly in the same, odd voice. Morgan could only nod her head in compliance and Max gently released her wrists. "Why don't you come upstairs, dear. I'll explain everything." He placed his arm gently around Morgan's shoulders as if to comfort her, and walked her up the old stone steps.

At the top of the stairs, Max steered Morgan around a corner and, to Morgan's surprise, into the same living room in which she had greedily downed the ancient wine that he had **given her**.

"Sit down." Max said kindly and motioned to the large wing-back by the fire that Morgan had occupied the night before..

Morgan did as she was told, and watched as Max began to slowly pace the rug between her and the fire.

"For Chri-" Morgan had intended to say _"For Christ's sake, Max, spit it out."_ but as soon as she hit the holy son's name her throat felt as though a hot poker had been shoved down it. She choked on the heat and pain for a second, but it was gone as soon as it had come.

"Do you know if you were baptized or christened when you were a child?"

"I like to think of it as my mother's biggest mistake. Certainly don't do much for me in life."

"Or in Death." Max said pensively, one hand on the mantelpiece as he stared into the fire below.

"Wait-What? What's that got to do with chokin'?"

"When you try to speak that name, you'll burn for it, Morgan." Max said calmly. "I suppose you'll get used to it, though. I mean, not to offend, but you certainly didn't seem to adhere to any Catholic teachings in life." Max chuckled. "And you certainly won't now. So it is probable that, as you lose any of that nonsense that you may have retained, you'll be able to speak that name if you wish. In the beginning it will just serve an irritating reminder, that's all."

"A reminder of what?" Morgan asked slowly, cautiously.

Max turned to look at her, the fire backlighting his face and causing strange shadows that seemed to deform his face.

"A reminder that we're damned." Max breathed.

Memories of the night before suddenly flooded into Morgan's mind; the pain, the confusion, the aching hunger. She remembered the boys in the car; she remembered what they had tried to do to her; and she remembered the sudden rage that had accompanied and encouraged her hunger.

The three boys were dead now, she had killed them and-

"I drank their blood!" Morgan nearly screamed though she did not feel any kind of fear or terror as she recalled the atrocious murders she had committed. Instead she was becoming increasingly aware of the strange exhilaration that the thought of blood caused her to feel. She remembered the heat of the red river that had coursed over her tongue and had warmed her whole body. She remembered how she had loved the way it made her feel like she was glowing. And she remembered the way it made her wonder what the stars were thinking as she stared at them in childish awe.

At the sudden feeling of something sharp in her mouth, Morgan came out of her reverie and noticed Max staring at her scrutinizing eyes.

"And...?" he asked.

"And..." She paused to let a vicious and greedy smile spread across her face, unknowingly displaying her new fangs. The grin leaked into her hazel eyes and ignited them with hunger. "...I liked it."


	7. Rulesy Rulesy

**Chapter 7: Rulesy Rulesy.**

"Now Morgan, you have to keep in mind that there are rules that come along with all of this."

"There are rules for being a vampire?"

"Yes, of course." Max said incredulously.

"Okay. No sunlight," Morgan paused then continued while dramatically count on her fingers. "no stakes, and no crosses. Right?"

"Well, yes." Max scratched the back of his head. "You'll certainly want to avoid water as well, but crosses? Not once you let go of your previous faith. Garlic won't bother you either."

"Any water?" Morgan asked, shocked, but quickly brought up another point. "By the way, I only went to church 'till I was twelve-Catholicism was forced onto me. I'm part Italian. If I could be un-baptized, I would be. My mother said I sold my soul to the Devil the minute I got a tattoo, so I might as well."

"Right, well perhaps that can be arranged." He chuckled under his breath. "But, water, yes. And unfortunately, I've found that that one does not, in fact, get better with time." Max answered, and before Morgan could continue, he began to explain more. "There are quite a few more actual _rules_, you know." He paused. "For one, you musn't let any humans know what you are, unless you intend to kill them, or make them one of us." Morgan opened her mouth but Max just continued. "Which brings us to the next thing you need to know. I gave you my blood last night, and from the moment it entered your body, it began to bind itself to you, making you a half-vampire. When you made your first kill, you fully crossed over in all of the physical aspects. That's one way of _turning _people. Another, made famous by legends and fairy-tales, I suppose, is the traditional sharing of blood. The way it is done is quite simple in aspect, yet it is difficult for the vampire to stop drinking his victim's blood." Max smiled. "When the human is nearly drained, the vampire gives the human some-and only some-of his own, un-dead blood in exchange." Max paused again and continued in a less scholarly tone. "Personally, I find that method less exciting. I suppose it's more interesting when you figure things out on your own. It certainly was with you-goodness!" He laughed. "You had quite the challenge! Three young men attack you, you kill them and dump them in a river before slipping in the mud and falling directly into the wet bank and getting water all over yourself. You poor thing." he chortled.

Morgan suddenly remembered the searing pain she had experienced when she had fallen, and she frantically began examining her skin for any sign of damage.

"Don't worry. It's all healed."

"But-"

"But you certainly looked like melted rubber when I found you. You took quite the fall."

"Yeah." Morgan agreed, only loosely paying attention now, as she continued to look at her skin and marvel over the lack of damage. Just as she was attempting to get a good look at her elbow, the willow-ghost floated into her memory. She hesitated for a moment, vacillating over whether or not she should mention the strange apparition to Max.

The two vampires were silent for a moment. Morgan, still digging through her memories of the night before, was finally pulled from her silence in an irritated rage.

"Does he always do that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Ace. Does he always do that?" Morgan nodded in the dog's direction.

Ace, who was lying on a large dog bed in the corner of the room, licked his pillowy mattress methodically, his large tongue slopping around noisily.

"Oh." Max followed Morgan's gaze, raised his eyebrows, and answered in a non-chalont tone. "When he's trying to fall asleep-always. It calms him down. Don't worry, you'll get used to him."

Morgan raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and continued to stare at the gargantuan white dog. "But he's bigger than I am."

"Well, you are particularly petite, my dear."

"But he's a dog. He's humongous."

Morgan heard Max sigh quietly.

"Morgan. Do you know how old I am?"

"Three-thousand-two-hundred-and-seventy-eight." Morgan answered bluntly without turning. She had both elbows firmly planted in the right armrest of the chair, as she continued to watch the dog.

"Well, that's an incredibly defined guess, but no."

Ace had now stopped his licking and lay nearly still.

"He is awful pretty. I never had a dog. I'll bet he's good company-never argues with you much, does he?" Morgan smiled lightly and turned to Max. "Oh by the way-and no offense, but I don't really _want_ to know how old you are, Max. It might give me the creeps, you know?"

Max nodded and sat in the matching wing-back, a bottle of what looked like whiskey, and two glasses in hand. "Well, the question was sort of a prelude to the point I was going to make. Ace isn't exactly what you'd call a _dog_."

Morgan glanced back at Ace, then back to Max. "He looks pretty canine to me."

"Ace is special. He's a Hell Hound." When Morgan looked sufficiently confused, Max continued. "A dog who protects his nocturnal master during the day. For example; if anyone should attempt to kill me while I slept, Ace would-"

"Maul the guy to bits." Morgan instantly gained an enormous amount of respect for the massive white beast asleep in the corner. "That dog is beyond hip, Maximillan." She added as she gazed back at the dog, envisioning how large his teeth were.

"How did you know my full name?"

"Guessed." Morgan looked back at Max and stifled a laugh. "Is it really Maximillan?"

"It is... Morganna Julietta Isabella Penciatti." Max answered slyly.

"Dammit! That's not fair." Morgan pointed a finger and waved it at Max jovially. "My Pop was an Italian bastard with a misplaced sense of propriety-don't use it against me. Besides cut out the end of the first one, and the two middle ones, and it sounds pretty decent."

"Molto bene." he began to fill the glasses.

"Don't bother. I don't speak a word." Morgan looked down at the liquid then to its container, curious. "That ain't the same bottle."

"No. You drank all of _my_ wine."

Morgan made a face when Max put emphasis on the word "my."

"This is just Whiskey."

"But I thought vampires couldn't stomach anything unless it was thick and red."

"A myth popularized by Mr. Stoker, and Hollywood." Max offered Morgan a glass.

"Who's Mr. Stoker?"

"Oh, never mind." Max was a little surprised, but supposed Morgan wouldn't care much for books, so he left it alone.

"Damn!" Morgan exclaimed. "That's the best whiskey I've ever tasted."

"Another perk of being extremely sensitive to the world around you. You're taste buds are more alert now than they were when you were human. Your sense of hearing, sight, touch, smell-they'll all be more sensitive. I suppose it's a predatorial sort of thing, makes the hunt much easier and much more exciting." Max leaned back into his chair and sipped at his glass.

Morgan's eyes lit up.

"Not until I've finished my drink, kiddo."


End file.
